Bucket in hand, I head out for the compost heap. The snow glistens with an icy sheen and I assume that my weight will crunch the snow beneath my feet slightly. But that is not the case. The daily thaw and refreeze cycles that are perfect for sugaring maple (Acer saccharum) trees, creates a rock solid, slick surface that looks to take me down. I add a pair of Yak-trax @yaktraxtraction to my shoes and safely make my way to the pile.
I feel as if I am gliding across the surface though the slight crunch of spring steel into ice reassures me that my journey will be a safe one. The light on the snow is almost blinding and I appreciate the changing sparkles and colors of reflecting light. The hardness of the surface hides any traces of prior walkers. Sticks that have fallen in past days sit on the surface looking to slide away.
I linger at the compost pile for a few moments after dumping vegetable bits appreciating the long shadows and the beauty of the moment. Blades of grass penetrate the surface standing erect as green stalagmites, pointy and unyielding. The cold fresh air has no scent and with a few final deep breaths, I start back toward the house.
